


a girl like you should wear a warning.

by gillanery



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillanery/pseuds/gillanery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(mostly junko-centric, minuscule hints of despaircest, spoilers)</p><p>“There is no greater bore than perfection, you know.” She says to her reflection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a girl like you should wear a warning.

**Author's Note:**

> this is sooo oooold but i found it on tumblr a while ago and i was like whatevs let's post it. anyways, i present to you, the very best of the very best, junko enoshima in all her glory. it's probably not the best, but honestly junko inspired me so much i love herrrrrrr i love her and i have to reread DR. i really do

Once upon a time, a carnivore girl ate the whole world.

The End.

*

For ten-year old Junko, the world is a funny place. Her classmate cries when she gets a bad mark on her test. Junko doesn’t understand what there is to despair about so she doesn’t study for the next one and gets a bad mark too. She feels absolutely nothing.

(The next day, her classmate’s pencil case disappears. She cries and cries until her throat goes raw. _That’s much better, Junko thinks and she smiles, crying over a bad mark was a complete waste of despair._ )

*

_What’s wrong with you, Junko? You’re crazy! Such a shame, and she’s so pretty too. Here comes the psycho! What’s wrong with you what’s wrong with you what’s wrong-_

What’s a girl to do but prove them right?

(Here insert very dramatic scoff from Junko.)

*

She’s alone in her dresser, trying on the outfit her stylist chose for her. She has a photoshoot in ten minutes, and she has four minutes to herself before the flank of people who do her makeup, hair, and fix her clothes come in again. _You can’t rush perfect_.

She studies herself in the mirror. Twists this way and that way (there, perfect!). Flips her hair to this side, then the other, making faces at the mirror (chin up, yeah, like that). The dress fits her like a glove, hugs her in all the right places but she scrunches her nose at the color. Pale white, definitely not her style but. The cameras will love it, the magazines will love it.

“There is no greater bore than perfection, you know.” She says to her reflection.

She looks down at the dress again and her eyes widen as she realizes that she _hates_ it. It’s horrendous, no, even worse, it’s hideous. Despair-inducingly hideous. How could she let someone put this on her, who put her in this bag of shit? She looks around the dresser and spots a cup half-filled with coffee. One second her dress is white as white can be and the next, the coffee just manages to find itself on her dress.

She hisses, and shouts for someone to help her. When he comes in, the look on her stylist’s face is priceless. She puts on her best _who me?_ face and swallows a smile. She looks at the clock. Two minutes to go.

*

“It’s just you and me, you know that,” Junko whispers to her, breath ghosting over Mukuro’s neck, hands tangling themselves around her sister’s short, black hair. She stays quiet for longer than Junko likes so she tugs at it. “Right?”

“Of course,” Mukuro says, sighing so softly Junko almost doesn’t catch it.

Almost.

Oh well.

Junko untangles herself from her sister and scoots all the way to the edge of the bed.

“you’re leaving me, aren’t you?” she whispers sadly. “you barely spend time with me nowadays, all you do is hole yourself up in this room.” Junko’s eyes go wide as tears gather themselves around her eyes. “it’s one of the boys, isn’t it? you’re leaving me for one of them, aren’t you? is it n-naegi-kun?”

Mukuro’s face freezes into something that would look like fear (except she doesn’t, she doesn’t fear, not anymore) if she didn’t look so confused.

“What? No, of course not, I’d never-”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me!”

“Junko, I- I’m not-” Mukuro says, hand stretched out as if reaching out towards her sister, but she brings it back to her side as if burned, as if thinking better of it.

“No, _no_. I get it! I fuckin’ do! Really!” She makes a _huff_ sound at the back of her throat. “It’s not like I need _you_ for anything.” She laughs, but it sounds choked and bitter. “Do whatever you fucking want; see if I give a _shit_.” Junko ties up her heels, stands up, and walks to the door, hand reaching for the doorknob.

“Junko…” Mukuro says again, but stops short. What could she say anyway? She couldn’t say that in reality, it was Junko’s fault, that she was the one making things up, could she? What good would that do? None, of course. Because it’s Junko, this is _Junko_ , and she’s her sister and that’s just it. It’s the way it is. Mukuro takes a deep (quiet, this time) breath.

“Tell me what you want.”

Junko’s hand freezes before it reaches the doorknob, and she turns around, becomes a flurry of blonde hair, red nails and black skirt. All Mukuro can see clearly is Junko’s smile, full of teeth and poison.

*

“This won’t hurt one bit.” She rolls her eyes and twirls a lock of red hair between her fingers. She doesn’t like the color, not one bit. But it’s better – much, much better – than, say, _black_. She looks around the room, spots her sister who’s leaning against the wall, face stoic as ever but Junko knows her well enough to notice the tension around her shoulders and crossed arms. She locks eyes with her and frowns (Relax, you idiot. Smile! You should be as happy as me, if not more, you should be _radiant_! Everything is going according to plan, our plan, sis, our plan. Would it fucking _kill_ you to smile?) and Matsuda notices it because he laughs a little and says, “I haven’t even begun yet!”. Junko turns her head slowly to look up at him and considers decking him in the face with her heels.

She doesn’t have enough time to consider this longer though, because Matsuda is removing the cotton and the syringe is going through skin and the drug is settling itself in her body and she spares Mukuro one last look as everything goes blurry. _That looks funny_ , she thinks and then -

*

Your name is Ryouko Otonashi. You’re an amnesiac. Everything you need to know about yourself is in this notebook.

*

“What are you-” he asks, eyes growing wide.

 _Whoops_ , the axe slips and-

Yeah.

She twists it a little, makes it go deeper, and Matsuda makes this cute little choking sound. He coughs out some blood and it falls on his shirt. _How gross_ , she thinks and tilts her head. She pushes him into the wall, twisting the axe deeper. Matsuda is taller than her, no question about it, but Ju- _Ryouko_ has never felt taller than this, she feels like she could float away, right up in the air like a balloon, feels like she could go up, up, up, feels like-

With a final choking sound, Matsuda’s right hand does a little twitch and then he moves no more. He’s leaning heavily on her, and it’s rather annoying so she takes out the axe and lets him fall on the floor, landing right on his face, blood sweeping out and pooling at her shoes.

 _How boring_ , she thinks, needing more more more. She huffs and starts stomping on the floor, sending blood flying. She kicks Matsuda on the stomach, so that he lays on his back, stomps a little more and grins when the blood splatters all over his hair and face.

Ryouko giggles and blows him a kiss.

*

Junko wakes up and _finally_.

(Ryouko was _annoying_ and let’s not even begin on her dreadful fashion taste, it makes Junko feel sick just thinking about it, the fact that she walked around looking like that for weeks, but Junko has to admit that she is glad she served for something. Matsuda was boring, definitely not necessary and not needed and not wanted, and now he’s taken care of, at least.)

One by one, she starts to plant her despair seeds.

The world outside the school’s walls is ending, but Junko’s game is only beginning.

*

She searches through heaps of papers, filled with useless information she doesn’t need, doesn’t want, doesn’t care. She’s about to give up, maybe he doesn’t have it, why does he have so much shit, how long is his break anyways? Where is it, where is it-

and then she finds it.

"B- _i_ -ngo.” she singsongs.

*

“Any last words? Think quickly, you’ve got ten seconds.”

“Don’t hurt her, please, not my-!”

“Whoops, time’s up!”

She sends him flying.

*

So, she stuffs Kyouko-san’s daddy in a box, hides it really carefully with hopes that she’ll find it someday. She almost forgets the picture that’s in her pocket, but thankfully she remembers at the last moment. The gift wouldn’t be complete without it, would it? She even wraps a little pink ribbon around it.

Hopefully Kyouko will take it for what it is: a graduation gift, of course!

*

When Junko sleeps (every girl needs her beauty sleep after all) screams like NOT YET and YOU CAN’T DO THIS and I BEG OF YOU PLEASE and JUST A LITTLE LONGER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE fill her dreams.

She wakes up smiling.

*

Even in death, the people who gave birth to her manage to disappoint her. She didn’t kill them; give her a break. Nah, she’s got enough with the twin sister trope, no need to add the self-made orphan one to the pile, she’s got a reputation to uphold y’know? Still, in their final moments, they could’ve tried a _little_ bit harder.

One day they just simply die. Then, Mukuro and her go homeless but it’s all so boring from there, blah blah blah. Nothing important to see here, moving on now.

How disappointing.

But Mukuro’s death, _that_ was something.

THE LOOK ON HER THE LOOK ON HER FACE THE LOOK ON HER FACE

The look on her face when the spears go through her body.

Junko’s laughter is drowned out by her classmate’s screams.

*

She moves Mukuro’s body herself. Drags it all the way to the morgue, all on her own. She pulls each and every spear out herself, watching the blood run down her fingers her wrists her arms. She stares at her sister’s (dear sister, sis, my sister, my precious big sister) face, picking out all the things they don’t share. Mukuro has freckles. She has a tiny scar above her left eyebrow. Junko runs a finger lightly over it. Her jaw is a little more angular. Junko leans down and presses her lips lightly to her sister’s cold ones. A drop of blood falls on her shoe, she grimaces (blood is so hard to get out of things, especially fucking shoes.) and takes a step back.

"I love you, sis.” and she pushes Mukuro into the dark.

Junko walks out of the morgue with a skip on her step, a tune on her lips, shining eyes and smile that could lighten up a whole room.

*

_Oh sister, if there was barely enough space for us in the womb, what would make you think there was enough space for us in this world?_

*

When Sayaka Maizono is murdered and not executed, Junko is, to say the least, surprised. The motive was supposed to be for her. (All those plans gone to waste, Maizono-chan’s execution was going to be completely _glorious_ , she spent hours planning and re-planning, she had something so special for the Idol but _no_ , these fucking kids.) Not that Junko minds. A little surprise doesn’t do anyone any harm, right? It just adds to the fun and everybody wants that!

After all, what’s a pound of flesh among friends?

*

She loves them, she does. She loves her classmates, her friends. Each and every one of them. She’s trying to protect them she really really is! But nobody ever appreciates her, do they? The only one who ever did was Mukuro and she’s dead. Does it mean anything? Probably not.

She loves them so much it makes her sick sometimes.

Whatever could make them think otherwise?

*

They’re so much fun; she can never get enough of them! So easy to toy around with, it’s like they were born for it.

Give them a motive, (the thing about them is that they all have one, from that idiot Hagakure-kun to the closed off Kirigiri-san. You can find out a lot about a person in two years, you just have to know how to dig without getting dirt under your nails.) A few thousand bills, some careful words, a video, some secrets and it’s like the bodies just can’t pile up fast enough.

*

“Give it up, Junko Enoshima. It’s all over.”

The curtain rises. Time to wrap up, the crowd goes wild. The final bow, standing ovation. The curtain falls.

It’s show-time.

*

The super Duper Nasty Torture begins and Junko Enoshima _lives_.


End file.
